


Explosion

by HonkBeep



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Explosives, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, POV Iroh (Avatar), Protective Iroh (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonkBeep/pseuds/HonkBeep
Summary: “The ship was smoldering and burning — all that was left of Zuko’s quarters was flaming wreckage, and Iroh’s heart sank as he knew immediately that there was no way the boy could have survived. “Zuko...” He breathed, painful, defeated, tears welling in his eyes.”Canon compliant Iroh pov of that time in season one where Zuko got blown up. Hurt and vulnerable season one ponytail Zuko with lovable soft tender daddy Iroh action.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> i shat this out in my notes app so i wont be accepting criticism but it was fun to write so maybe it will be fun to read. also i didn’t know how to end this so i iust didnt but it makes it sound like zuko is gonna die but thats just poor writing he lives
> 
> UPDATE!!! PLEASE READ!! I finally wrote an ending to this and I was gonna add it on to this work but ao3 is complicated and i dont understand it and it scared me so i just made a whole new work which i am linking to this one so please read that one instead thank you!!!

“Or just stay in your room and sit in the dark. Whatever makes you happy.” Iroh said to his sulking nephew. He gently closed the door and exited the ship, humming his four seasons song as he tapped down the ramp. He didn’t blame Zuko for being bitter; Zhao had just stolen his entire crew! Neither of them said it, but they both knew that Zhao knew he was the blue spirit. He was just as anxious as Zuko about what the  _commander_ was going to do about it. But at least Iroh was keeping his positive attitude. 

He was about halfway up the road when he heard it. An explosion. He whipped around. The only ship in the harbor was burning. _His_ ship. His nephew’s ship. 

“Zuko!” He cried as horror shot through him. He flew to the docks as fast as his old bones would carry him. His sandals filled with dirt and his feet felt filthy but he barely noticed, his mind going into tunnel vision focus on what he was racing towards. He did not allow his tense body to relax as he stood at the edge of the dock, eyes wide, expression disbelieving. 

The ship was smoldering and burning — all that was left of Zuko’s quarters was flaming wreckage, and Iroh’s heart sank as he knew immediately that there was no way the boy could have survived.  _“Zuko...”_ He breathed, painful, defeated, tears welling in his eyes. 

That was Zuko,  _his_ Zuko!  Iroh loved that boy more than he loved himself, and he couldn’t help but cry at what a waste it all was. Because that’s what it was; a waste. It was such a waste! Zuko was so strong and determined and good, he had so much good inside him! The goodness raged against his father’s poison within him, but Iroh knew that Zuko would choose good, find the right path,  if only he’d had the chance . Now he was gone, and the redemption that he was destined for had been stolen from him. Iroh wanted to weep. 

A few people were emerging from the woodwork, gathering on the edge of the dock and near the shore, watching the ship burn and the old man grieve for his lost boy. Iroh didn’t notice them, watching the flames crackle with glassy, shell shocked eyes. A few bits of flaming debris floated in the water. Their burning Fire Nation flag, a barrel of blasting jelly, a wooden mast. The mast bobbed. 

Iroh’s ears perked up.  _The mast bobbed_. A limb, a soggy ponytail,  Zuko!  Iroh cried his name out and immediately stripped his outer layers, plunging into the water and kicking hard, his heart surging with hope. He splashed water on the mast to douse residual flames and grabbed Zuko’s arm. The boy was limp but Iroh didn’t care, he threw the arm over his shoulder, grabbed the torso, careful to keep the head above water, and swam for shore, dragging Zuko’s lifeless body up the boat launch and laying him hastily on shore. 

By this time the few people gathered around had grown into a small crowd. Iroh was on his knees beside the boy and looked up helplessly at them. His despair had turned into desperation and fervor. He refused to let the young prince die. “Please! He’s not breathing! Is anyone a waterbender? Please help us!” The crowd shifted uncomfortably but no one stepped forward. Iroh began chest compressions. 

He thrust his weight into his nephew’s ribcage, but felt at least one of the bones was cracked. Unwilling to do more damage, he rolled the boy over and began smacking the center of his back. After a few smacks, Zuko gurgled and began to cough up water. Relief. 

His gold eyes were slightly visible as his eyelids cracked open, and then lazily closed again as he lolled out of consciousness. Iroh rolled him onto his back again and examined the injuries. 

It was.... bad. A massive bruise was forming on his jaw, he had cuts on his upper lip, and though Iroh loved his nephew despite his scar, even he had to admit that Zuko was one kid that a black eye really did not look good on. He pulled the boy’s soggy shirt off of his little body and was met with horror. Bruises were forming over cracked and broken ribs, and there was a huge piece of shrapnel embedded in his side. The wound was leaking blood bad and a dark stain on the concrete boat launch ran down until it reached the waves that lapped red. Iroh again looked to the crowd pleadingly. 

“Please, help! He’s bleeding! Is anyone a doctor?” 

Silence. Zuko looked impossibly pale as the blood continued to drain from him. 

“Please anybody! My nephew— my son!” Iroh choked out a sob. “He’s bleeding too much! He’s going to die! Please, somebody help us, I cannot lose another son!” Iroh was crying now, looking at Zuko’s slack face grow whiter and whiter. Nobody moved, just murmured. Iroh looked helplessly at Zuko, trying to convince himself to do what he was slowly beginning to realize he had to. 

It felt like just days ago where little Zuko would flinch if Iroh so much as lit a flame in his palm. Insisted that a bucket of water be available during firebending practice. Cried and screamed in his sleep, full of horrible nightmares revolving around being burned. 

Iroh remembered when Zuko had messed up a firebending move and cowered, barely daring to look at Iroh, breath and heart racing in fear. Iroh remembered how he had reached down, grabbed Zuko’s arm gently, forced him to look up, and promised sincerely that he would never,  ever , lay a hand on Zuko in his life. He had promised never to hit him, kick him, slap him,  _ burn him. ... _

He looked down at the gaping wound, at his own hands, at his nephew’s —  his son’s pale face, and begged forgiveness from the spirits for the act he was about to commit. “Forgive me, Zuko.” He muttered into the boy’s ear. Then he braced his forearm across Zuko’s torso and arms and with his other hand, wrenched out the shrapnel. 

Zuko cried. The blood gushed. As quickly as he could, Iroh covered the wound with his hand, feeling the warm blood coat his fingers, and summoned a flame. 

Zuko’s scream was eerily similar to the one Ozai had ripped from him on that terrible day almost three years ago, and Iroh had to keep himself from pulling away before the wound was fully cauterized. He knew it hurt Zuko more than it hurt him, but it still hurt him. A lot. 

Zuko had not regained consciousness after his wound was cauterized, but he quivered and whimpered nonetheless. Iroh knew Zuko needed more medical attention than he could give, and again turned to the crowd. “Please, if no one is a doctor, just tell me where I can find one. Please, I cannot lose another son.” His voice cracked on the word. 

The crowd again shifted awkwardly. Finally, someone piped up. “In town.” They said uncomfortably. “Thank you! What is your name? The Fire Nation owes you it’s gratitude.” The person told Iroh their name and he bowed to them before picking up Zuko in his arms and rushing up the road, holding his son as close to him as possible, trying so hard to be gentle without compromising his pace. 

“You are so strong, Zuko. You will get through this. You are such a strong young man, I love you. I care for you. I won’t let you down.” Iroh was murmuring kind nothings in Zuko’s ear as he carried him. He didn’t know if the boy was aware of what was going on around him, but he could feel his life slipping away through his fingers like sand, and while he fought hard to save it, if Zuko had to die, Iroh would make sure he died feeling love. 

When Iroh got to town, asking around got him to the town doctor in no time. He rapped aggressively on the door. When the woman opened it, Iroh let the words burst out of his mouth. “PLEASE! My neph- my son! He’s dying, he’s bleeding, his ribs are broken, he needs help!” 

The doctor looked them up and down skeptically. “Hmph. Well I’m sorry to hear that but I don’t treat firebenders no matter how hurt they are.”

Iroh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “PLEASE!” He all but yelled. “We will pay any price! Please, he is so young, I can’t lose my son, please!” 

The door slammed in his face.  “Zuko _.”_ Iroh finally allowed himself to weep. He sat down in the alley next to the doctor’s residence and placed Zuko’s head in his lap. “Zuko,” he whimpered, knowing the boy was going to die. “I love you so much, Zuko. You are so good, so brave, so gentle, so kind. You are so young, you deserve so much better, Zuko.” He took a moment to sob before resuming, his tears dripping from his face and landing on his nephew’s. “You deserve so much better, you deserve turtleducks and pai sho and tea and spicy noodles. You deserve warm sand and beach days and sunlight and fun. You deserve theater and friends and warmth and love. You deserve love, Zuko, you deserve so much love.” He was crying too hard now, unable to form words. In his lap, Zuko lay unresponsive. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Explosion (revised)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036022) by [HonkBeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonkBeep/pseuds/HonkBeep)




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